


Bloodstream

by sampocalypse



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, College AU, Depression, Homesickness, Implied/Referenced Depression, M/M, Minific, Mutual Pining, Nostalgia, Verbal Abuse, god I hate jan, idk if there'll be more characters so tags will be added as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-21 23:49:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10685412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sampocalypse/pseuds/sampocalypse
Summary: "He hates those copper-colored curls that glint, like pennies, in the sun. He hates those blue eyes that remind him of the sky back home. He hates his music, with its flowing rhythms and lilting melodies that remind him so much of his mother's favorite songs.He hates Wylan for reminding him of everything he's left behind. He hates Wylan for invading his thoughts and refusing to leave."





	1. Chapter 1

It's Friday, and Jesper's lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. There's a bottle in his right hand, and it's the fourth time in a week that he's turning to alcohol. He's gotten crazy drunk the past three times, and it felt _good_. It's bad for him, but he doesn't care, doesn't _want_ to care; he doesn't want to feel anything. There's a couple coins in his left hand, and his fist is wrapped around those coins like they're the only things keeping him alive. Like a few pieces of metal are enough to turn his life around.

Another swig of liquor is flowing down his throat before he can stop himself. He doesn't usually drink, but he can't help it. He hates it, he hates what he's come to, he hates _him_. He hates those copper-colored curls that glint, like pennies, in the sun. He hates those blue eyes that remind him of the sky back home. He hates his music, with its flowing rhythms and lilting melodies that remind him so much of his mother's favorite songs.

He hates Wylan for reminding him of everything he's left behind. He hates Wylan for invading his thoughts and refusing to leave. 

Jesper looks at the bottle in his hand, and he feels terrible. He isn't supposed to be drinking. His father made him promise that he wouldn't be reckless with alcohol, because Colm knows that Jesper doesn't mix well with it. But it's hard, it's hard for Jesper to focus on anything and it's hard for him to forget the boy that he knows he won't get and it's hard for him to forget what he's lost. 

He was great three months ago. Everything had been looking up, he'd gotten accepted into college and he was so glad that he would be able to make his father proud. Sure, his father had been strict, but Jesper knows that Colm was only doing his best for his son. Jesper had been at home, laughing with him and telling him how he would write every day and that he'd try not to get mixed up with the wrong people. He still remembers Colm wrapping him in a hug the day before he left.

Now, look at him. He's holding an almost empty bottle of—actually, he didn't read the label before grabbing it—and there's tears in his eyes, a result of hopelessness and homesickness and everything in between. He's never even _known_ that he's capable of feeling like this.

He's hopeless, because he's lovesick but his roommate is so clueless and probably isn't even into guys anyway. He's hopeless, because his grades are slipping and he knows he should do something about it but he's lost all motivation for anything and it has nothing to do with Wylan so he doesn't know how to fix it.

He's homesick for his father, who he hasn't written to in almost a month now. He's homesick for that clear blue sky he never sees anymore, the one that lights the world with hues of pink and orange at sunrise and sunset, the one that makes him think of magic. It's just not the same here, not without his father smiling at Jesper, who even with his fascination for guns always loved to find time to marvel at the sky. That had changed after he came here. Lately, he hasn't been able to do so much as glance at the sky without thinking of home.

Yeah, he needs to figure out how to change all that. He's losing his mind, wasting his change at the casino nearby and in return never having any pocket money and dear God, he needs to stop. But that rush, the feeling that he might actually win something—it's exhilarating, it's addicting, it's _ruining his life._

Everything he does nowadays is ruining his life one way or another. He's taking too many risks, he knows that, but he's just so lost and every risk he takes makes him feel a little less lost, if only for a short time, because he always feels as if it might pay off.

It doesn't make sense to anyone. It doesn't make sense to Jesper, either. In the long run, he always ends up even more lost than before, another wrong turn in the giant labyrinth he calls his life. He's waiting for the day where the wrong turns add up and he reaches a dead end, but he's still hoping that he'll find his way back, or a way out from this mess. He's hoping, but he feels like it's too late, and that the only place left to go is that dead end he's so scared of.

There's a knock on the door and Jesper curses, dropping the bottle in surprise and wincing as he hears the glass shattering. He's on his feet in a second, stepping around the shards and wishing that he'd listened to his father. He's not drunk today, no, but he wishes he was. When he opens the door, Wylan's standing in front of him, his hair a mess and his eyes distraught.

Jesper hates how the moment he sees him, he can't think. He's just staring at those eyes, those _goddamn blue eyes_. But Wylan isn't looking at him. He's looking past Jesper, at the floor and at the mess Jesper made by dropping the bottle.

Jesper's waiting for Wylan to say something, but he doesn't say anything. He steps past Jesper, careful to avoid the broken bottle, and heads straight for the bathroom. It's strange, but Jesper's not about to complain. The only thing is, he has to clean up the mess by himself. He supposes it's okay as long as Wylan doesn't question the alcohol.

_Wylan._

He's the boy that reminds Jesper of home. He's the boy that makes him think of when his mother was alive, because the tunes he plays on his flute remind him of the songs she always hummed and the lyrics she'd sing.

And Jesper can't help but wish that he really did hate him. It would be so much easier.

But, no. Jesper couldn't help but fall in love with the boy who reminded him of home, and now all he can do is hope that he won't leave him behind, too.

He doesn't believe that'll happen, though.

After all, Jesper never was that lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading this, thank you! I don't usually write and it's been forever since I've shown anyone my writing but I hope you like it! kudos/comments would be greatly appreciated!!
> 
> It'll be a really short fic that probably could be condensed into a one shot but, me being me, I had to break it up into different points of view. 
> 
> once again, if you're reading this, tysm!!
> 
> ~ Sam
> 
> Idea (and title) taken from the song [Bloodstream](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QH-fWNOsZsM) by The Chainsmokers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Every once in a while, he laughs at himself. It's foolish to think that someone made of sunlight would ever love someone made of shadows, and it's a thought that he can never shove away. But every day, the moon tries to grab the sun. And every day, it crawls back, counting its failed attempts, only to try again."

Wylan's in the bathroom again, trying to ignore the fact that Jesper's probably drunk and that there can't possibly be a healthy explanation for the broken bottle. He's trying to ignore his father's voice on the other end of the phone, a weekly occurrence that he should be used to by now but still, every time, it hits him hard. He's trying to ignore that he's not doing too well right now, but at the same time he's wondering if he's ever really been 'well' to begin with.

He's trying to focus on something else, like how the mirror is still slightly fogged up (Jesper must've taken a shower before drinking, though Wylan doesn't really get that), or how his toothbrush looks like it's about to fall into the sink, or how the mat on the floor really doesn't fit the bathroom's color scheme. He's _trying_ , but it's not enough. He can still hear the yelling on the other end, he can still hear Jesper's footsteps outside the bathroom.

His father is spouting the usual stuff. About how Wylan 'should be studying something more useful than that stupid music major of yours,' or how 'I'd write to you but you're too stupid to read anything,' or 'I don't know how you even got _into_ a college, you don't have the intellect.' Wylan isn't surprised when Jan brings up Alyse's pregnancy, because 'At least the baby won't have to look up to _you_ , out of all people.'

And then finally, _finally_ , it stops. All he can hear from the phone now is breathing, and Wylan is relieved, because it's over, it's _over_. He mutters a "Bye, Father," and ends the call, wondering why he picked it up in the first place and why he ever dared to hope that this time would be any different.

Next thing he knows, he's closing his eyes and he's sitting, his head in his hands and his back to the door. There's tears streaming down his face and he's wishing that he wasn't like this, that he was _normal_.

Sometimes he wishes that he didn't have a passion and talent for music, or for numbers, or for chemistry. Maybe it wouldn't hurt as much if he wasn't good at those things. If he wasn't good at any of it, maybe Wylan could _understand_ why his father refuses to accept his dyslexia, but that's not the case, Wylan knows that he's good at so many other things. He's sure his father knows, too, which is part of why it hurts so much, because there's so many things he could do that might make his father proud, but he refuses to even _acknowledge_ that Wylan is his son.

He supposes that he's expendable now. Once the baby is born, Wylan bets that Jan will begin to ignore him completely, forgoing his tortuous weekly 'checkups' in favor of tending to his 'real child.' Wylan is perfectly fine without the calls, but he knows he'll be replaced. And once he's out of college, Wylan won't have a place to stay.

It's a thought that Wylan generally tries to shove to the back of his head, because if he doesn't think about it, he can pretend it's not a problem. But even then, it's only pretending, and he can only shove it down for so long before it starts to suffocate him, as if he's being strangled by twine woven from his own emotions. Some days he doesn't only feel the rope he's imagined his thoughts make, he almost _sees_ it—descending down in front of him, waiting for him to grab it and go down into a darkness that he knows he won't climb out of.

It's ironic, Wylan thinks, that some compare him to the clear blue sky of summer when the shadows have already claimed him long ago. It's ironic, because the summer sky is bright and cheerful; the summer sky is _wanted_.

He would like to say that he's never been like this. He would _love_ to say that. But the truth is, he's only given up three times this week and that's _nothing_ compared to his first week of college, or a few years ago when he was in high school and his only light was his mother. Of course, eventually even she was taken away. He still sees her in his paintbrushes, he still hears her in his flute, but that doesn't do him much good. Not when he's shoved his paintbrushes under his bed, not when he can see Jesper flinch every time Wylan plays his flute.

Wylan doesn't know what he's doing to hurt Jesper, but he knows he's doing _something._ He hates himself for it, whatever it is, because Jesper doesn't deserve to hurt. Jesper's a light for Wylan—like his mother once was. He doesn't want to lose his sunlight. Not again.

Jesper's his sunshine, and Wylan can't help but think that he's already tainted his light. It's dimming, and Wylan wants to scream for help because he needs the light, the sun.

Every once in a while, he laughs at himself. It's foolish to think that someone made of sunlight would ever love someone made of shadows, and it's a thought that he can never shove away. But every day, the moon tries to grab the sun. And every day, it crawls back, counting its failed attempts, only to try again.

He feels like that sometimes. As if he's so _close_ , but then he misses and then he wonders why he's trying, why he thinks he'll ever catch up to his sun. He's trapped, and he's not sure he'll find his way or if he's doomed to walk amongst the darkness.

Like the moon, he's not aware that the sun is stuck in the same dance. Close, closer, _closer_ , but by then it's too late, the day is over, and the same cycle repeats, over and over again.

Wylan doesn't understand his thoughts. He doesn't understand why he can't just be happy where he is. He's in _college_ now. Four years ago, he never would've thought he'd get here. He's studying a music major, far away from his father. He hates that he's still so... _lost_ , because now there's a pretty clear road ahead of him and he should be glad. He feels as if there's fog, some sort of mist, that he's brought upon himself. He's trying to fix it, to no avail.

All he can really do anymore is wait for it to lift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shouldn't be awake right now but that's fine I always sleep in geometry aNywAY
> 
> Chapter 2! Hope it's good? let me know what you think!
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'll probably change the title soon
> 
> ~ Sam
> 
>  
> 
> hmu on [tumblr](https://sampocalypse.tumblr.com/)  
> if you wanna chat! ~~I could use some friends~~


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